One
by KSUnsungHero
Summary: Her shoulders shook as she finally let go. The crew dispersed, giving them their privacy. It was the least they could do for one of their own.
1. Witness

Disclaimer: I don't own it. You can find this and other stories on if you so desire. Lyrics are "Far Away" by Nickelback.

One

_Just one chance  
Just one breath  
Just in case there's just one left_

It had been a good day. Inboxes never looked better. Paperwork was virtually non-existent. Everyone was gone for the day. It was the way it should be but rarely was.

Cragen walked out of the office and killed the light before working his way through the squad room and out the door. The stench of the city was refreshing and he took a big whiff before getting into his car. It had been nearly two days since he'd been outside. He hesitated before starting the car. Not tonight, he thought. Just the idle hum of the engine would fill his ears on the drive home. The scanner would remain silent. He opened the windows and pulled out into the street, all the while being met with the cooling evening air. It felt nice. He smiled. It was a good day.

He heard sirens off in the distance, the familiar wail warning him to stay back. He glanced to his right and slowed down as a fire truck roared past. Seconds later, two more followed. Shrugging, he resisted the urge to see what it was all about. There wasn't anything he could do about it, anyway. After all, he was Special Victims. He cocked his head to the left and right again before speeding up and exiting the intersection. He stole a look as he passed. The city never slept. It was pushing eleven, but he knew his detectives were slumbering somewhere in the city. Catching up on some much needed rest, he figured. In a matter of moments, he would be doing the same. Or so he thought.

Red lights flashed around the scene, illuminating just enough for those around to wish they hadn't seen anything at all. The mangled wreckage would have been enough to send the toughest of men crying into the arms of their mothers. Most of the officers had arrived on scene. Some arrived as backup. Others stood around trying to make themselves useful. Despite all the training, no one was prepared for what lay before them. Beyond the twisted metal was the unthinkable that no one on God's earth would ever wish to see. For a couple unfortunate souls, it would be engrained in their minds forever. For one, it would mean a lifetime full of nightmares.

She saw it happen in a blink of an eye. A second or two was all it took, it seemed, for it to all go down. A student by day, the waitress had just finished her shift and was walking home when the van sped by her, nearly knocking her to the ground. She could still feel the draft and pulled her sweater over her. She was shaking and it was nearly eighty degrees out still. She hadn't seen what had transpired afterward. She'd seen the fireball and had turned away. The next thing she knew she was blocks away, having run as far as she could to escape—what she didn't know. She still didn't know. She had an idea, though. She looked across the street to a man and her heart went out to him. Even from her vantage point, he looked pale and shaken; almost as if his white pallor glowed in the dark. She didn't envy him.

He fidgeted, alternating from one leg to the other. He just couldn't get comfortable. As if it mattered then. He'd gone outside the bar to hail a cab when he heard the sound. It had been deafening and from his earshot it was all he heard. He'd run over and by the time he'd gotten there, it had been clear to him that any help would have been pointless. That was over an hour ago. He slung his suit jacket over his shoulder as he caught a woman's eye from a few yards away. She was sitting in the back of an ambulance. Word had been that she had seen it all. He held her gaze briefly before turning away out of respect. That's what he told himself; mostly it was out of pity. What that poor soul had witnessed, he could only guess. He held up a hand and told the officers he would be a moment before flipping open his phone. With shaking hands, he somehow dialed the number. Three rings were all it took. God, her voice sounded good. Better than any beer could have been. He walked away from the two men and briefly looked back over again. A small piece of metal caught the light and he saw a flash as the woman turned her gaze away. He did the same. This time, it really was out of respect.

The witness was just that--a witness. She'd seen and heard it all. No one knew what _it_ was, though. They had bits and pieces and were waiting for her to fill in the rest. It would come in good time. The weight of the world rested on her shoulders. Whoever said 'one was the loneliest number' was right. An oxygen mask was placed over her face as a medic checked her vitals. She was cool and collected on the outside. They didn't know her, though. It was how she dealt with such events; not that she'd ever experienced anything so horrific. She looked around and blinked away a few tears, determined not to lose it. The battle was lost the moment her eyes fell on him. She tore off the mask with blistered fingers and slowly approached him before stopping halfway. The man, dressed in a tee shirt and jeans, closed the gap quickly. His arms rose slightly encircling her and she held on for dear life. Her shoulders shook as she finally let go. The crew dispersed, giving them their privacy. It was the least they could do for one of their own.


	2. Lucky

_On my knees, I'll ask  
Last chance for one last dance  
'Cause with you, I'd withstand  
All of hell to hold your hand_

She stood with her back to the wreckage, arms crossed over her chest. She couldn't bear to look at it just yet. She didn't know if she'd ever be able to again. She'd tried working herself up to giving a statement but her brain wasn't functioning properly and the words never came. She saw the tense expression on their faces and knew how frustrated they were to have so few answers but it was the least of her concerns. She felt a presence and looked over her shoulder slightly. He smiled tightly.

"I talked to them. Bastards. All they can think about is themselves." He put his hands on the back of her shoulders and squeezed gently. She didn't need his anger. He bottled it up for the time being and nudged her gently.

"I want to go home." The words were scratchy and hoarse and thick with emotion.

"I know, honey." He was treating her like a child but she hadn't opposed thus far. He didn't know much about the psychological process behind what she'd witnessed, but it didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out she wasn't in her usual state of mind. Something told him she couldn't care less how he spoke to her. Her mind was working slowly, barely sustaining itself. He stepped in front of her and looked into her eyes. It broke his heart. The Olivia Benson he knew was no longer there.

"Kay." She nodded, blinking several times to focus when he stepped into her line of vision.

"Come on, Liv." He took her by the elbow and she tensed under his grasp. He mentally berated himself. She'd been checked out before he'd gotten there and he wasn't sure what her condition was. It was obvious by the gauze on her hands that she'd been near the fire. She inhaled sharply before stopping.

"Shit. I'm so sorry, Liv. I forgot. You okay?" He bent down to look at her and saw a glint in her eyes. He felt like shit.

She merely nodded, biting her lip. It stung, in more ways than one. She looked ahead and shrunk back, moving into Elliot's side.

He wrapped his arms around her, unsure of what to do. Something had scared her. He followed her gaze and it donned on him what the problem was. He whispered that he would return and jogged ahead to the line of officers that surrounded the scene. He spoke in hushed tones to Detective Jimmy Duncan. The twenty-year veteran nodded and made a jerking motion with his thumb. The sea of uniformed and plain-clothed officers parted.

She looked down at her shoes. One had been scorched straight through. Suddenly the pain bothered her. She wriggled her toes and winced. She didn't want to go back, though, and it wasn't as if she was dy. She shook her head of the thought and put a hand to her mouth for thinking such a thing. She was broken from her reverie by his gentle hands on her wrist, pulling her forward.

The officers gave them their space as they walked to his car. No one spoke a word but the look in the officers' eyes said enough. Some nodded while others simply looked elsewhere. A few had moisture cascading down their faces. They didn't bother wiping it away.

He led her to the door and unlocked her side before opening it and ushering her in. As he walked around, he took a deep breath. He was going blindly into unfamiliar territory. He got in and reached over to pull her seat belt across her lap and pushed the latch into place.

She stared out the window as he pulled away from the curb. They rode in silence. Each stop light gave her time to collect her thoughts. Each turn led her closer to her safe haven where she could curl up and block out the world. She was conscious of the fact that since it had happened, she hadn't thought about it. Not one image, sound, or memory made its way into her frazzled brain. She wouldn't let them, for now. She knew the time would come soon. She was exhausted and didn't know how much longer she could stop their intrusion. She could feel his gaze on her. If she had the energy, she'd tell him how much she wanted to jump out the car. She locked the door with her thumb, ignoring the searing jolt of pain the spread through her singed digits.

It worried him. He rationalized it to mean that she simply didn't want to fall out. He told himself that because anything else would send him to the nearest psych ward. He couldn't do that to her, though. He stayed on course to his apartment. It had been mere months since he'd moved into the smaller space. It wasn't much but to him, it was home. He kept driving, taking the long way. In New York, there was always a long way to be found. He knew he was prolonging the inevitable, but they were both putting it off. He eyed the road again before looking down at the clock on the radio. He made a mental note to call Cragen. Better he found out from him than someone else.

The car seemed to be the only one on the street. It felt as if they were the only ones on the planet, isolated from every one and every thing that could give them some sense of reality. Nothing made sense. The sharp shrill of a cell phone pierced the silence.

"Stabler. Yeah. Fine. Uh huh. Not now, later. Yeah, okay." He hung up and looked over. Yeah, he'd ask her for a statement. When she was damn good and ready. He pulled up to the curb and heaved a sigh of relief. He'd never been able to find a place in the past. He killed the engine and undid his belt before pressing the button on hers. She made no attempt to untangle it from where her hands rested on her lap.

She pushed the button to disengage the lock on her side and fumbled with the handle before seeing Elliot come to her rescue. She shifted in her seat to give him room to open the door before pushing the lap belt out of the way. She couldn't remember how it became undone.

"Thought it might be a little hard with your hands." He saw her staring down at the object that looked so foreign to her. He watched her nod and get out of the car before shutting it and leading her to the steps. Many thoughts plagued his mind, none of which he knew how to deal with. He wondered if she'd talk and what he'd say if she did. He agonized over the decision whether to argue with Cragen to let her come in or to insist that she take a week off. She'd want to work but she was in no condition to do so. He'd have to keep an eye on her. They all would. It could be for the better, he thought. Huang would be there and could give him the guidance he needed to be there for her. To say and do the right things because he felt like a fish out of water and he was gasping for breath. He could only imagine how she felt. Seeing her, it looked like every ounce of being was slipping away.

She followed him up the stairs and through the steel door leading to his floor. In the back of her mind she thought he'd been taking her home but it didn't surprise her when he didn't. She felt the familiar bulge beneath the hem of her shirt. Her heart raced. She was scared of what she was capable of doing. He'd want to watch her. He didn't trust her anymore than she trusted herself. Rightly so. As she stood at his door, it happened.

He cursed the neighbors. They were always setting off the smoke detectors. The stench always lingered for hours. He shook his head and a brief look in her direction was all it took. His eyes grew wide and he saw her shaking her head feverishly. Her eyes bore into his, pleading for him to understand what her tormented mind was going through. She grabbed onto his arm tightly and he could see the small splotches of red start to seep into her gauze. She was terrified.

The smell brought her back. More powerful than any force on the face of the planet. Her breaths came in small bursts, unable to carry the oxygen to the much needed parts of her body. It wasn't enough so her brain had to choose what was more important. Her face grew ashen and her knees grew weak. She lost all ability to control what happened.

He saw her eyes roll back into her head and the grasp on his arm grew slack. He caught her as she fell to the ground, slowing the impact with the hard floor. She'd have some nasty bruises, but her head was spared. Thankfully, he'd had the key in the door already. He shifted the hand that was under her head and slid it under her shoulders as he moved his left to lie under her knees. He lifted her gently and opened the door. He jiggled the keys and removed them before stepping over the threshold and kicking the door shut behind him.

He debated where to take her and thought better of putting her on the couch. She was dead weight in his arms. He gently deposited her on the bed and stared down at her. God, he was scared for her. With every ounce of his being he was scared. When he'd gotten the call he'd just changed. He didn't even remember how he got to the scene. At first, he'd wondered why she was involved in the first place. It had been near the precinct but she'd gone for the day or so he thought. She had been in the wrong place at the wrong time.

He bent down and removed her shoes and frowned when he saw the hole. After all that had gone on, she hadn't noticed being burned there. He removed her sock gently, all the while watching for signs she was waking. The top of her foot was blistered and red and would be painful by morning. He removed her other sock and debated what else to take off. He turned the fan on and adjusted the air conditioning unit in the window before pushing the blanket to the floor. He thanked his inability to ever make the bed. His hand brushed across her hip as he pulled the top sheet over her. He carefully undid the holster and reached over to remove her badge before putting them both in the drawer on the nightstand. In the morning, he would take the bullets out of her piece. She didn't need it at her desk.

He gently lifted her arms and pulled the sheet up to her midsection. The gauze on her hands was streaked with crimson. A few small patches had dried already. He went to the bathroom and returned with an armload of supplies.

He went to work, methodically removing the gauze. He unwrapped it slowly and made sure he didn't further damage the charred skin underneath. He shook out several cotton balls and poured the blue liquid over them before wiping the blood from her hands. It was a long process but he couldn't bear to add more pain to her ordeal. If he could spare her one ounce of hurt, he would. He applied a healthy amount of burn cream to both hands before wrapping them back up. He shoved the used supplied into the trash can beside the bed and pulled up the sheet at the foot of the bed and repeated the process of treating the burn on her foot. He adjusted the covers once again, his work finally complete. It was only beginning, though.

The next day, month, year would be a challenge for her. He knew that much. He stared down at her. Her breathing was slow and even and he was relieved to know she was sleeping. It bothered him that it took her passing out for her tired body to rest but at least she was getting it. He sat on the bed and smoothed the wrinkles in the sheets. He shifted his gaze to her face. She had a little more color, underneath the blackness brought on by the smoke. He brushed aside a few locks that covered her closed lids.

"What did you go through, Liv?" His voice cracked and he angrily wiped away the tears that ran down his face. He wasn't upset at losing it. He was upset at the injustice of it all. Furious at what she would be forced to live through. With shaking hands, he pushed himself off the bed. He got down on his knees and prayed for the first time in a long time. To a God that he believed in. To a God that would give him the answers because he didn't know where to turn.

He asked for her to be able to find peace. He asked for strength so that she could lean on him without them both crashing to the ground. His heart hurt for what she went through and he didn't want to let her down. God help him, he loved her and damnit if life wasn't short enough. Screw the rules and screw the politics of it all. He'd been her partner for many years. It was time to become something more. He'd put it all on the line for her because in the end of it all, he didn't want to be alone. Selfish as it was. He didn't want her to be alone, either. They were good together. They both knew it. He came to the startling realization that if it came down to it, he'd choose her over the job. Any day.

He whispered the final words and stood. He opened the closet door and removed a blanket and pillow before settling down on the floor. He placed his hands behind his head and stared up at the ceiling. The tears had stopped. The anger had abated. He closed his eyes and tried to sleep. Like a father watching over his wounded child, his senses were heightened. He couldn't save her from the night's events, but he could be there to tend to her battered body and mind. She was the lucky one. The sole witness. Some luck.


	3. Support

Elliot awoke the next morning and stretched. He ran a hand over his face when the previous night's events caught up with him. He got up and went to the clock to pull the chord so the alarm wouldn't wake her. Yawning, he stared at his sleeping companion. Seeing she was still slumbering, he quietly made his way out of the room. He grabbed the phone from the base and sat down on the couch. After a few moments to organize his thoughts, he held with the receiver to his ear and waited.

"Cragen." The sleep-laden voice was just shy of barking into the phone.

"Hey, Cap. This is Stabler." He gave his superior time to let the words sink in.

"I know by the sound of your voice who it is, Elliot. Why the wake-up call?" He glanced at the clock. Just barely six thirty. He'd told everyone to sleep in. It was hardly what time he had in mind. He hated to see what his detective considered early to be.

"I've got something I want to run by you. First, did you hear about anything happening last night near the precinct?" He wasn't sure how to bring it up, but he knew Cragen had been at work when he left. For how long, he didn't know. It was possible he didn't know anything had even happened.

"You mean the fire? I saw a few fire trucks as I was leaving. Is there a reason I should be concerned with it?" He sighed, knowing he wasn't going to get back to sleep once the conversation was over. He was already awake. He walked to the door and opened it to retrieve the paper. He almost dropped the phone at the headline. What had occurred was more than the simple warehouse fire he'd suspected.

"I'm not sure what you're referring to, but I'll start from the beginning." He heard a muffled curse on the other line.

"Hang on a second, Elliot." He scanned the article, his mouth agape. What a shame, he thought. He turned his attention back to his detective and told him to continue.

"Last night after I got home I got a call from Duncan in homicide. He and his partner, can't remember the new guy's name. Anyway, he and his partner recognized Olivia. She was real shaken up and he said I should get down there, that something had happened. She was a mess, Cap. I know she'll want to work but I don't think she'll be able to handle the streets. That's why I called you. I was thinking the desk would be the best place for her to be, at this point." He ran his finger over the edge of the table.

"Wait a minute. Back up. Are you saying Olivia was involved in this? How?" He cringed at the thought of her having to go through such an ordeal. The words 'post traumatic stress disorder' immediately came to mind.

"That's the thing. I'm not sure what she saw. I haven't gotten anything out of her. I haven't even tried. I'm not sure what even happened. All I saw when I got there was what used to be a van. It was dark and I was trying to find her. When I got there, they told me she was getting looked at. That's all I know." He tried to recall everything but he realized he really didn't know a whole lot. He had some catching up to do.

"Elliot, you get the paper? Because if you do, once you read what happened, I don't think you're going to want to let her out of your sight. Whatever she saw wasn't pretty." He let out a drawn out sigh.

"Makes me not want to look, but yeah, I got a paper." He opened the door and the minute he saw the picture and headline, his heart sank in his chest. He glanced over his shoulder in the direction of his room and felt his throat constrict. He cleared it and took a few breaths to compose himself.

"Judging by your silence, you've seen just why we need to tread carefully, here. I'll set up a time for her to meet with Huang. He can tell us where to go from there. What do you need from me, other than that?" He turned the newspaper over, not wanting to see it any further.

"Well, I think we need to tell the guys before they find out elsewhere. Word is going to get out that she was there. I don't want people treating her differently. She hates that. I'm with you. We need to keep her in our sights. She's going to fight us if we baby her, though. So, I say we just let Olivia be Olivia and give her our support. I could use a little advice from Huang, myself." He walked to the bathroom and got a towel out of the closet before draping it onto the rack.

"Whatever you two need, you'll get. I'll ask Huang what we should be expecting. I'll ask the guys to come in early and give them a briefing of the situation. They're going to want to know how she is, Elliot." He'd seen a lot in his time on earth, but the cases that hit close to home tugged at his heartstrings. They were like family and his heart went out to his female detective.

"I don't know how to answer that. She's been through God knows what. Who knows if she was there the entire time or if she came up to it? I do know that she probably saw more than anyone on scene, and they're going to hound her details. We need to get her some protection from the vultures out there. It's only a matter of time before her name is released to the press, Cap. I hate this. This is Olivia we're talking about, here." He lowered his voice as he walked into his bedroom to retrieve his clothes. He grabbed them quickly and left without waking her.

"I'll take care of it. Just concentrate on being there for her. I'll back you in whatever you need to do. If you two need to leave, you have the green light. Take whatever time you need. Just keep her breathing, Elliot." He didn't want to attend her funeral. He'd attended too many. He jotted down a list of people to contact.

"Already taken care of." He didn't need it spelled out for him. If he had to lock her in his room, he would. He reminded himself to make sure her gun was empty before she put it back on. It would kill her to give up her gun. He couldn't do that to her.

"I've got some calls to make. When should we expect you two? Name a time. As late as you want, Elliot." He stood up ripped off the note. He stuck it by his wallet and went to go change for work.

"Give me some time to let her wake up. I've got to fill a prescription and change her dressings. It's a quarter 'til now. Plan on us coming in around nine or so. If she wakes up later, I'll call. She's out like a light right now. I thought she'd get up during the night but she was pretty much drained." He set his clothes on the toilet and walked out of the bathroom so it wouldn't echo.

"Wait, was she injured? Shit, I didn't even think of that." He berated himself for disregarding Olivia's physical health. He'd been so concerned for her emotional well-being he hadn't even consider that she could have suffered some form of bodily harm.

"She's got some burns on her foot and hands. I'm not sure where else. I didn't…it's not my place. I didn't want to maker her uncomfortable. If she needs me to, maybe I can call Casey or something." He went into the living room and leaned against the recliner.

"Good idea. You did the right thing. Let me know if there's anything else you need. Otherwise, I'll see you in a couple hours. I'm going to go call the guys." He hung up and set the phone down none too gently. Life could be so cruel.

Just as he was getting ready to head back into the bathroom, he heard the bedroom door. The sight of Olivia wiping the sleep out of her eyes and squinting against the brightness of the room reminded him once again of his children. He felt an even stronger urge to protect her. He smiled and went into the kitchen. He heard her soft footsteps as she followed. The shower forgotten, his goal was now to get her to eat.

"What time is it?" Her voice was hoarse and raspy. She yawned and winced as it jarred her sore throat.

"Around seven. I couldn't see the switch to turn it off so I just unplugged it so it wouldn't wake you. Coffee?" He walked around the kitchen, letting her set the pace of her morning. Every now and then, he'd glance over at her seated form, judging her demeanor.

"Mmm…ow." She set the cup down quickly, almost splashing the scolding liquid on her bandages.

"Careful. Did it hurt your hands?" He stared at her a moment and looked away. She hated it when he did that.

"My throat's sore. They said it would be for a bit. The uh…smoke from…the heat irritated the lining of my throat. I guess maybe I should have gone with water." She shrugged and pushed the cup away.

"Gotcha." He poured out her cup and rinsed it before filling it with water and adding a few cubes of ice. At least she'd been able to mention a few details. Nothing big, but the fact that she could talk a little about it was good, he thought.

"Thanks. So, what time do we go in?" She gazed at him, meeting his eyes, and held them in her sights. She pleaded, silently. She knew he understood. If anyone, he would understand.

"I called Cragen this morning. Told him I'd let you sleep in and we'd be in. I had to tell him, Liv." He fought the urge to take her hands in his, not wanting to injure her further. She looked away, fighting back tears.

"Wh…what did you tell him?" She cleared her throat, thinking of all the things her colleagues would be thinking of her. She wasn't a victim. The kids in that van were victims.

"I didn't know anything to tell him. I just told him you'd seen some thing; what things, I wasn't sure. I told him you'd want to work. He's, uh…you're on a desk, Liv. I'm sorry." He spoke gently.

"I want to work. I need to be working today. Thank you." She nodded, mostly to herself, as if reaffirming that she could handle it if she didn't have to be alone.

"What are partners for? I'm going to shower real quickly, then." He saw her nod. She was getting lost in her thoughts again. He opted to make his shower as short as possible.

No more than ten minutes later, he emerged from the steaming room. He looked around the living room and saw her sitting on the couch, paper in hand. He cursed and raced over. She looked at him with a blank expression.

"Here, let me take that. I forgot that was there. I'm so sorry, Liv." He couldn't tell what he'd just caused by leaving the paper out where she could relive what had happened.

"I smell." She changed the subject quickly. She knew an appointment had already been made, most likely. She'd talk another time. Huang wouldn't push her and she was thankful Elliot wasn't, either.

"What? Oh, your clothes. Once you get them changed, it'll be better. Mostly, it's in your clothes. I have some fabric spray, too, that will probably help. I'm sure you have some perfume or something at home. Let me change the dressings on your hands and your foot and if you want, I can call Casey and she can help you clean up a little and bring you some clothes. I'm afraid you won't be able to shower." He was rambling. He just wanted it to go away, but he couldn't erase what she'd been through.

"'Kay." She nodded and got up from the couch as he, too, stood to get the phone.

xxx

Three and half hours was all it took for Olivia to feel the pain of her burns. She was going off adrenaline and endorphins the previous night. She'd been in the file room pulling folders and making copies when she started to feel the pain. First, her foot from crouching on the floor to reach the lower drawers. Then, her hands from the constant motion . By noon, she literally felt as if her body was on fire. To top it all off, her face ached. The heat of the fire had just barely singed the outer layer of skin, giving it the feel and look of a sunburn. She kept busy, though, not wanting to quit. She startled when the door opened unexpectedly.

"Look at you. Hey, Cap wants to see us before we head for lunch. I thought we could eat in today." He took in the creases around her eyes and bit his lip. He'd let her come to him on her own time. He had a feeling she was in a world of hurt, though.

"Let me just finish this up and I'll meet you out there." She gathered the files she was working on and stacked them on the chair before leaving. She rounded the corner, where she saw Elliot holding a cup of water and a bottle of Tylenol.

"Thought you might need this." He poured out a couple capsules into her hand and gave her the water. He noticed she could barely grip the cup with her sore hands.

"Thanks. Wow, I can't believe I was in there that long. It's nice and quiet. I could get used to that." She downed the water and tossed the paper cup before following him into the Captain's office.

"Shut the door, please." Cragen offered them a chair and sat behind his desk.

"Thank you for giving me space. I know you want to know what happened, but I can't and I don't know when I'll be able to. I don't remember much, anyway. I'm sorry." She ran a white, gauze-wrapped hand through her hair and sighed.

"Olivia, I wouldn't expect anything less than how you're handling this. None of us do. We just want to give you some space. If you need anything from us, let us know. We're here for you. I made an appointment with Huang for one thirty. I thought you could use some time away from the files. Can't let the guys get used to having someone doing the dirty work." He smiled warmly and leaned forward with his forearms on the edge of the desk.

"I definitely could use a break. I think all of the names are sounding alike right about now. Do you need me to check in after my appointment?" She fidgeted in her seat. In the back of her mind, she was afraid for what she would remember. Since her meltdown, she couldn't recall much. Even the picture in the paper and its accompanying story didn't do much to jog her memory. It was as if it never happened.

"Nah. I know where to find you if I need you. That will be all. Oh, Elliot, I need you to get with John regarding a case you worked a few months ago. Got another victim. Same MO, et cetera. Maybe between the two of you, we'll get this one closed." He placed his palms on the desk and stood.

"Will do. We're going to break for lunch. See ya, Cap." Elliot stood and held the door for Olivia before closing it. His stomach was growling and he had a feeling Olivia could use some food, too. The day was going surprisingly well, he thought. He wanted to go with Olivia to her appointment to offer support, but he knew she wouldn't have that. Worry ate at his gut and he shook it for the time being. He still needed to get with Huang, himself if he wanted to be able to help Olivia.


	4. Beginning

A/N: I'll be in NY all next week, so don't plan on any updates from me. FYI. Have a great weekend/week! Thanks for reading.

"I can't believe I ate that much. I'm going to be miserable now." Elliot pulled at the waist of his pants in a vain attempt to alleviate the feeling of his overly full stomach.

"I warned you. Geez, Elliot. You act like you haven't eaten in weeks." She pulled out her chair, determined to rest a bit before her appointment. She still had a few minutes.

"It felt like two weeks. I think I ate for the both of us. You sure you aren't hungry?" He sat down and skimmed his phone messages. Nothing too important, he thought.

"I'm fine. I can't eat when I'm tense, though. I wish I could just get it over with." She got up again from her chair and paced.

"I'll be out here if you need me for anything, okay?" He resisted the urge to place his hands on her shoulders in a brotherly, semi-embrace. He watched her nod and leave the room. Not even a response. Great, he almost made her cry and she wasn't even in her appointment yet. Way to go, Elliot. He shook his head and picked up the phone. With nothing better to do until John got back, it looked like he would be making those phone calls. He dialed the first number while watching Olivia's retreating form until he could no longer see her. What he wouldn't give to be a fly on the wall in that room. Just to know what she'd gone through. She'd tell him when she was ready and if he found out any other way she'd retreat and never come to him again. It was just as well that he didn't know, no matter how hard it was sitting on the sidelines.

Olivia walked slowly to the door and frowned when she saw the light off. She shrugged her shoulders and leaned against the wall.

"Sorry. I'm not late, am I?" George unlocked the door and flipped on the light.

"I'm a little early. I don't have anywhere else to be, anyway." She looked around the office, trying to fill the time.

"Sit, take a load off. How are you doing?" He started slowly. The question could be answered however she wanted.

"Thanks. I'm doing 'as can be expected', I guess. She did air quotes as she said it. She had no idea what could be expected. She was hoping to get some answers. She was surprised at how freely the words came. She already felt like she was talking too much.

"The guys crowding you?" He opted for no notes. He would give her his undivided attention.

"No. They've been great. It's the other detectives. It's like the minute I leave the room or something they act like I'm some sideshow freak. I just want to do my job." She tapped her hands on the armrests of the chair.

"Did you tell them you felt that way?" He saw her grow more restless, as if she was expecting a barrage of personal questions.

"No. I don't really know them well enough to tell them off. Fin and Munch have kept their distance. Cragen briefed them before I got in. It's only a matter of time before they're hanging all over me." She smiled weakly.

"What about Elliot?" He shifted in his chair.

"Elliot? Elliot's been helpful in his own way. He isn't pushing. I'm grateful for that." She took a few calming breaths.

"Good. I've set up an appointment for him, as well. He wants to help you. Is that okay? I won't discuss anything specific." He treaded lightly, not wanting her to run.

"That's fine. Maybe it's better he knows all the details. Yeah, you can tell him whatever he wants to know or whatever you feel he should know. You're the expert. I don't even know how to deal with myself. I think right now he's expecting me to start throwing things or to start crying uncontrollably." She let out a self-deprecating laugh.

"Is that how you feel? Angry? Upset?" He leaned forward in his chair and looked her in the eyes. She nodded, briefly, before looking down.

"Yeah, I do. Not really angry. Mostly I'm trying to get it all sorted in my head. I still can't believe it happened. It's like a nightmare you only remember parts of, only when you wake up it's real. It comes and goes. I'll be fine one minute and the next I'll just space out." She looked up again and was relieved when she didn't detect pity in his eyes.

"What happens when you space out?" He knew he was on thin ice, and any moment it could break. He wanted to ease her into talking, not throw her into the icy waters.

"It's hard to explain. Last night I had an episode, I guess you would call it. I smelled something and the next thing I knew it was the next morning. This morning I was sitting on the couch and I saw the paper there and I saw the picture and everything but I didn't realize it was the scene. I snapped out of it when Elliot saw I had it. It didn't bother me as much as it should have. It should have bothered me, right? Why would I have two different reactions?" She would feel a lot better if someone would just tell her how she was supposed to feel.

"People react to trauma differently. We're prone to compartmentalizing things. We want to put something in its place so we understand it. The thing is rarely do we ever understand the human brain and how the mind works. What we do understand regarding trauma is that everyone is different. Let's talk about what happened with you.

"Smell is a powerful trigger for memories. Your mind was telling you to label that as being the thing that would put you over the edge. Whatever you'd label that as. You have your own labels. They aren't pre-set. Now, your brain takes that information and it determines what needs to be done. A lot of things are happening here, physically, but in essence it's like this. Your body needed to put the energy in sustaining your essential bodily functions. Think of it as self-preservation. That's why you passed out and have no memory of it now as we talk. Then this morning, it was doing the same thing, only it was more capable of sustaining itself because it was coping. Maybe the visual trigger wasn't as strong and you weren't really drawn to the event that caused the trauma. You were witnessing it as an outsider. Your mind was blocking out what happened until you're ready to deal with it. It's perfectly normal and I can't stress what I'm about to say enough. Don't let anyone tell you there should be a time frame here. Each case has a different set of rules. I know you won't like this answer, but I think you need to ride this thing out. You're entitled to it, Olivia. Don't rush it. It hasn't been that long since it happened." He saw his words were sinking in. She was realizing she had control over getting over what she'd seen. There was still a little flicker of doubt in her eyes, though.

"What if I never get there? What if I never get over it?" She was so scared by the question, she could barely whisper. She didn't want to think about the chance that she may never be normal again.

"You will. Slowly but surely, you will. Today is day one, Olivia. Day one. The beginning. Don't think of it as a whole. Think of it as a piece. Those pieces may seem distorted and warped and impossible to put together, but eventually they will form the whole picture. That picture in somewhere in your head. Your brain isn't going to let you unscramble the pieces until it knows you're good and ready to accept the big picture. Don't get me wrong, though. They'll try to get out. You will have your triggers. You will be angry, upset, frustrated. You will push people away. You will be depressed but you'll deal with each of those issues as they come. Today is today. Start with that. Now, do you want to continue or call today done?" He'd let her have the control. The ball was in her court.

"I want to be done today." She bit her lip, nervously. She felt like a teenager, begging for acceptance.

"Then we're done. Same time tomorrow, okay?" He stood and she did the same.

"Okay. Um…thank you for not making me talk. I know eventually I will, but it's too fresh. I'm not ready." She croaked the last word out.

"Understandable. Remember, Olivia. If you only remember one thing, remember what I'm saying now. You will get past this. It's okay to not be ready. If you were, I'd be worried about you, but you're going to be fine. One piece at a time. Okay? And if you need me, I don't care if it's two in the morning. If you need me or want to talk about something you remember, just call." He locked eyes with her and she hesitated before nodding. She mouthed her thanks and left. As soon as she got down the hall, she let out a sigh of relief. She felt human again. It was okay for her to be messed up. She never thought she'd say that. She made her way to her desk. It had been a half hour. She didn't know she'd been in there that long.

"Hey. How'd it go?" He gauged her reaction to his concern.

"Okay. I'm screwed up. What'd I miss?" She sat down at her desk and made a list of things to get accomplished. She felt uneasy as she prepared herself for Elliot to give her some speech about how completely normal she was. She heard a snort and looked up.

"Ha! I could have told you that. That'll be fifty bucks. I'll charge you half off. You know, since you're a friend." Without missing a beat, he'd managed to bring a smile to her face. Mission accomplished.


	5. Deprivation

"Post Traumatic Stress Disorder; PTSD." George handed Elliot the printout he had been reading. He watched the detective skim over the highlighted information.

"I'm no expert on this, George, but this is Liv." He hit the papers with the back of his hand before leafing through them.

"Yes and no. As I told her, each case is different. There will be times that she will experience all of those stages of trauma. They can go in order or they can be shuffled. I'm going to tell you the same thing I went over with her. This has to be on her own time frame. Don't go in there expecting her to be back to normal in a matter of days. Her time table could be in weeks or even months. What you can do is be there for her.

"Give her space. When she's angry, give her a chance to work through that anger. When she's upset, give her the privacy she needs but let her know you're there if she needs a shoulder to cry on. And she will cry. It's inevitable. She's kept it all in but the dam will break. Give her space but don't let her run so far away she loses herself. She's going to need you and the guys to keep her grounded in all of this. What she saw, no one really knows for sure. I don't think we can begin to comprehend what that was. I'd also be willing to bet she's experiencing a little survivor's guilt. I'll know more when we talk later on. I know you want to help, but you're doing so much for her right now by just being there. You'll be fine, Elliot. So will she." George stood and offered Elliot his hand while he patted him on the back with the other.

"Thanks, George. This is a little overwhelming. I guess it pales in comparison to what Olivia is going through, though. I wish I could take her place. I wish it were me on that street." He dropped his hands to his sides in defeat.

"I know you do. You've got at least three guys out there that feel the same way, but you and everyone else have to get past that. You have to be there for her because if she doesn't have you all, she's going to fall; hard. Something tells me you won't let that happen, though." He winked and opened the door for Elliot. Elliot simply nodded before leaving, obviously feeling the burden of his best friend's anguish.

Elliot walked out of the room and into the bullpen. He noticed Olivia was not at her desk, and he quickly shoved the information in the top drawer of his desk. He sat down heavily in his chair and rested his face in the palms of his hands. He had never felt helpless. He heard someone clear their throat and lifted his head up.

"Resting on the job, partner?" Olivia smiled softly. Elliot looked as exhausted as she felt.

"Just waiting for you, you lazy bum. How's the file room? Is it all you ever dreamed it be, Liv?" He met her grin, feeling awkward inside for her knowing where he had been the past half-hour. If she was uncomfortable by it, she was hiding it well.

"It's going. When this is all over, if I ever see a copy machine again, it'll be too damn soon." She chuckled and sat down in her seat, facing Elliot.

"That bad, huh? I remember getting familiar with the number two, letter tray. I swear, that thing has more paper jams than…I don't know. Twice, yesterday alone." He shifted in his seat and sat up straighter.

"You could have told me it was having problems, you know. And why didn't anyone ever place a service call?" She shook her head. Sometimes she felt like the mother hen of the whole precinct. She'd taken on that role lately, and she wasn't sure how she felt about it. She wanted people to see her as a cop, foremost. The era of slaving over a hot stove and cleaning up for the female counterpart was over. She challenged anyone to tell her where her place was.

"Well, that's what you're here for, dear. Where's the number even at?" He knew he was egging her on. He watched for signs that his attempts at humor were not being appreciated.

"Where do you think? In the manual. I'll let you ponder what that is for a while. Cragen said I could leave early today. You got plans?" She bit her lip, anxiously. She'd been dreading the moment she had to leave for quite some time. As the hours ticked by, her stomach had knotted up. Her palms were sweaty under her bandages and her face was on fire.

"Yeah. With my partner." He noticed the anxiety overtake the features of her face. He knew her well enough to know she didn't want to go home alone. He watched her visibly relax.

"Are you sure you don't have plans? You don't have to babysit me, Elliot." She debated whether he was simply being nice or if he really did have the night open. She didn't want to prevent him from having a life.

"You're my plan, Liv. I thought we could swing by your place and get some more clothes. Maybe rent a movie and get a pizza. What do you say? It'll be like old times." He started gathering up the files on his desk and put them in the proper trays on his desk.

"Throw in some Ben & Jerry's and you've got yourself a deal, Stabler." Happy to have some company, the smile returned to her face once again. She stood up and nudged her chair in with her knee.

"I guess I could make that happen. Ice cream, movies and pizza it is. Let's blow this joint." He let her take the lead and snatched the papers from his drawer. He put his suit jacket over them and walked out alongside Olivia.

Xxx

"Elliot, get her out of here." Cragen poked his head out of his office and jerked it in the direction of the door. Seeing the younger man nod, he returned to his work.

"...and if you call me one more time , I'm going to come over there and…" her threat was cut off when Elliot snatched the phone from her grasp.

"Excuse me, but how did you get this number? Uh huh, and were you aware that this number is for official, police business? Do you realize that I could have you thrown in jail for harassment? No, that's not a threat, and yes I believe we've gone through this before. Leave Detective Benson alone or I will be talking to your superior. Count on it!" He placed the phone back on the hook and looked up at his partner.

"Do people not understand the word no anymore? Damn idiots. All of them. Hateful bastards." She ranted, her arms flailing as she paced the floor.

"I know you're upset, but it's not a good idea to piss off the press, Liv. Casey is handling it. Come on, let's get out of here for a while." He grabbed his wallet and turned to leave.

"Is that what you call handling it? Letting these blood-thirsty people call ten times a day? I've got three more on my cell phone, Elliot. Is that what you call handling it? Is it? Look at me, damnit!" She opened her phone and shoved it in his face.

"What?" He took the phone and scanned her calls before turning it off. He was disgusted. The calls had to stop. They were pushing his partner over the edge.

"I can barely function now. I'm so damn tired. The minute I try to close my eyes, I…I'm losing it, El." She ran a hand through her hair and closed her eyes. She counted to ten and took a few deep breaths. She hated how incompetent she sounded.

"I had no idea. Why didn't you come get me, Liv?" Ever since she'd stayed at his house, they'd gone to bed at the same time. He had no idea she wasn't sleeping. He thought she'd gotten a few hours, but he had a feeling she hadn't gotten any for the past few days. She had to be running on fumes.

"I don't need you to tuck me in, Elliot. I'm not one of your kids." She glanced around, realizing she'd said it louder than she should have. Luckily, the squad room was relatively empty, save for a few smart individuals that found it in their best interests to mind their own business.

"I know. I'm sorry. Look, it's lunch time. You know how I get when I'm hungry. Come on. I'll buy. Think of some movies you want to rent for tonight. We'll pick them up while I'm out." He watched her open her eyes. She stood there, debating his offer. He finally saw a brief nod and let out a sigh of relief.

xxx

She tossed and turned in her sleep. She could feel the searing heat of the handle beneath her fingertips. She pulled back her hand and gasped as it burned her skin. She could hear the screams over the sound of the fire. She searched the ground for something, anything to break the glass. She spotted a plastic cup on the ground. She picked it up, prepared to use it to pry open the scolding handle. She turned back to the flaming heap of metal and was met with a shocking wave of heat as the gas tank exploded. Her eyes went wide. She felt two hands tugging on her arm. She struggled to break free.

Elliot walked quietly to the kitchen. Olivia had crashed during the movie and he didn't want to wake her up. She had started to nod off, but the moment he suggested going to bed, she protested until he finally gave up. She claimed she was okay, but he saw it in her eyes. He was growing concerned for her lack of sleep. When she finally succumbed to exhaustion, he couldn't be happier. She'd been asleep for three hours. He'd watched their usual handful of movies alone. He heard a faint noise and stopped halfway to the kitchen. His senses were heightened and he heard it the moment it started. Sobbing. He quickly tossed the items in the trash and wiped his hands on a nearby towel before making his way over to the couch. Olivia was whimpering in her sleep and he swore he could feel his heart break. He reached out and took her arm to gently shake her awake, but it was roughly pulled from his grasp.

"No! Let me go!" She was thrashing around, her voice hoarse as she screamed. As she was led farther and farther away, she could hear a voice in her ear as she stopped struggling. The voice grew more familiar with each step.

"Shh…it's okay. Wake up for me, Liv. Come on, sweetie." He held his hands out, fingers splayed. He didn't want to touch her but he wasn't sure what he could do to comfort her. Her breathing was ragged and raspy as she sat up and looked at him. Her eyes reflected the terror she had witnessed.

"Oh God." She whimpered and bit her lip. The images flashing through her mind grew dimmer with each passing second. She struggled for air, her lungs starved for oxygen.

"Olivia, you've got to breathe. Take a deep breath. One breath. You can do it." He sat beside her on the couch leaned down so his mouth was even with her ear. He continued his mantra.

"I…I can't….I…help me. Please." She struggled to take in the smallest amounts of air. Spots danced before her eyes. She panted, breathing heavily. She felt his hand take hold of the back of her head and force it between her legs.

"It's okay. You're okay. Just take deep breaths. You've got to calm down. Count to three. See? You're okay." He eased the pressure of his hand and moved it to rest on the small of her back. Moments passed like hours and it felt like years before her breathing grew less labored.

"Elliot." She clamped her eyes shut, afraid the images would return. She reached behind her and grabbed his hand. She held onto it, afraid to let go of the one thing anchoring her.

"I'm here. I'm right here. It's okay." He squeezed her hand and brushed away the locks of hair that obscured her vision. He smiled at her warmly, hoping to convey that it was safe. That they were on his couch in his living room.

"Make it go away. Please." She started to sob uncontrollably, finally letting go of the emotions that she'd been holding in for so long.

"I'm trying, honey. I'm trying." He brought her head to his shoulder and felt her fingertips dig into his back. He rocked her slowly, hoping the smallest of gestures would ease her pain.


	6. Talking

A/N: I think I owe you readers another part for throwing you for a loop in one of my other stories. Truce?

"…another stack of messages for Oli…" John quit talking the moment they came into the room. The night before had been a rough one, he'd been told. Under no circumstance was Olivia to be bothered. He'd rounded up her phone messages and sifted through them. Already, she'd gotten call after call. Casey was doing all she could, but the press wasn't backing down. They wanted details. The authorities wanted details. The parents wanted answers. Olivia just wanted peace. Poor girl couldn't even get a good night's rest.

"Hey, Liv." Fin casually greeted his friend. The glare Elliot shot them both was enough to send him running for the hills. He looked behind him. John was slowly following, his tail between his legs.

"What are those? What was he talking about?" She nodded toward the pile of pink slips that presumably all had her name on them. Elliot hesitated before handing them over.

"Don't worry about it. I'll make a call to Nova…" He watched her count to ten in her mind. Lately he'd done that enough for the both of them.

"I'm going to see George. You can come out now, Captain." She set the papers down haphazardly and left the bullpen.

"How's she doing? I want your honest opinion. George thinks she needs a day off and he hasn't even seen her yet. Did something happen?" He poked his head out the moment it was clear. He didn't want to talk about Olivia in front of her. He was concerned, but in her fragile state, she couldn't have handled the attention. He felt like a parent who'd been caught spying on his teenager from behind the blinds.

"I don't know how to answer that. She's tired as hell but she can't sleep. She had a nightmare last night. I just keep seeing that image in my head. The one from the front page. I've read it over and over and I just don't know how much longer "no comment" is going to settle with anyone." He sat down on the corner of Olivia's desk and passed the slips of paper Olivia had been going through.

"Damn it. This puts me in one hell of a position. I have to play Devil's Advocate in all this. I don't like it but I don't have a choice. Elliot, I can't stop anyone from coming in here when they're tired of the run-around." He threw up his hands in frustration.

"I know. That's what I'm afraid of. Did the report come back yet of the van?" He changed topics. He felt uncomfortable talking about it. He needed something to focus on. Something he could work out in his brain.

"Yeah. Faulty brakes. The owner of the van said the brakes were to be checked this week. Today, actually. The front end was a mess, what with the speed of the van on impact. They were still able to tell from the wear on the pads. It's a wonder they lasted that long." He remembered the report. Bits and pieces stuck out in his mind. Six dead. Three on impact. Two from the explosion thereafter. One from the fire as a result. It was the last three that bothered him the most. The three that haunted him and sent a chill through his spine. Numbly, he walked back into his office. Elliot had taken his place at his desk and let him be. The conversation was over, and the room had never been more quiet.

ooo

George Huang sat across from Olivia. He'd noticed a change in her demeanor the minute she walked into the room. He scooted the chair closer to her and folded his hands in his lap. The brief hesitation before answering his question was a telltale sign that she was being truthful. No brave front this time. Just brutal honesty. It was a start.

"To tell you the truth, I'm not sleeping much. I get a few hours here and there but not a whole lot." She looked him straight in the eye, never once averting his gaze. She'd been up with Elliot the night before talking. After some convincing, she gave Elliot the go ahead to call George to schedule an appointment first thing in the morning. The time came just hours after she'd gone to sleep.

"Understandable. I'm glad you came in. How are you feeling physically?" He studied her hands. They were wrapped, but he could still see pink around the edges.

"I'm doing a little better every day. I have an appointment this afternoon. My face no longer feels like I stuck my head inside an oven." She let out a nervous laugh, trying to lighten the mood.

"Well, that's certainly a good thing. How are the flashbacks?" He knew by the paleness of her skin and the bloodshot eyes she was sporting, that she needed a lot more than a few hours each night. She most likely wasn't getting anything to eat, as well.

"Ugh…um…they're okay. Nothing to say, really. I had a dream last night. I guess Elliot probably told you that." She'd gone into the bathroom when Elliot made the call. She wasn't sure what was said, but she had a feeling he'd told George as little as possible.

"Do you remember anything? Elliot was adamant about letting you tell me, yourself." George knew them well enough to know that they respected each other's privacy and the delicate position they had been thrust into.

"A little. I guess. Uh…" She stared down at her still bandaged hands. She closed her eyes, her breathing coming in steady bursts as she fought to remain calm. The realization that eventually she would have to talk hit her, and she didn't know if she could do it.

"Olivia?" George patiently waited while his friend fought for control over her emotions. He hadn't seen her break down, but the phone call from Elliot had been distraught. The man had never sounded so desperate. He wanted to help and George promised him he'd let him know when and how.

"Sorry. What was the question?" George's voice sounded far away, distant as if coming from another room.

"Are you okay, Olivia?" He eyed the phone on the table, the first few digits of the extension already dialed in his mind.

"I need a minute, please." Her hands were shaking. She clamped them onto the armrests to keep them still.

"Why don't I call Elliot in here. I don't think you're going to feel better and you're not going to get any sleep. You've carried this around with you for days." He saw Olivia start shaking her head. It was time to be firm, though. He scooted even closer and leaned in before gently placing a hand on her knee, reassuringly.

"N…no, it's okay. I'm fine now." She tried to look as if she was anything but losing it.

"If you don't want to do this, that's fine, but I need to know that you're going to be okay when you leave here. I'm worried about you. I can write you a week's worth of sleeping aide's but at some point some of this is going to have to come out. Elliot has been by your side. Would you feel better if he came in here? You can say as little or as much as you want, but I think you remember a little. Deep down, I think you know you need to let some of it out. Am I right?" He could see the fear behind her eyes, the terror that she ultimately had no choice in the matter. She had no control over the events that happened, and she was fighting for a strong hold on anything that would help her return to normal. A faint whisper, a mere nod was all it took. Tears leaked beneath her eyes. She wore no mascara. Behind the false bravado, she somehow knew it was time. Time to start talking. She really need Elliot.

"I'll just give him a call, okay?" He waited while she mutely answered again.

Within a few moments, Elliot knocked on the door. It was the knock of someone so completely lost that they didn't know what to do. The knock of someone who was watching his best friend go through unimaginable pain.

"Thanks for coming. We thought it would be easier to do this with you in the room." George got up, giving Olivia a little more space so that Elliot could provide his support.

"Is this about last night?" Elliot looked at George first, then Olivia. She nodded once again.

"What happened last night, Olivia? Walk me through it." George sat down on a chair by the door and watched from a distance. Close enough to help, but far enough away from them to not intrude on what could be a profound moment. The moment a lot of people were waiting for.

"I fell asleep. I haven't gotten much sleep this week. I had a dream. The details are a bit sketchy. I was staring down into….into the car…the van. It was on fire. I…I couldn't open the door. I tried, but I couldn't. I…it was too hot." She shook her head in obvious guilt.

"You did your best. You tried to open the door. Then what?" George watched Elliot gently place one of Olivia's injured hands in his.

"Um…I couldn't find anything to break the window with, so I thought I could maybe find something to put on the handle to pull it open. I went back and it…it blew. It was so hot. I thought if I…if I could get inside then I…I knew…someone started pulling me back. I didn't want to go back. I didn't want to leave them there." She focused on the ground as she spoke. The swirling pattern of the carpet mocked her like smoke wafting through the sky, reminding her that she was too late.

"Who, Olivia?" George watched Olivia raise her head, her brows creased.

"I don't know. It must have been one of the first responders. I didn't get his name." She misunderstood the question.

"Olivia, I think he's asking who you didn't want to leave. You said you didn't want to leave them there." Elliot spoke for the first time since she started her recollection of the events. He knew how hard it was for her to talk about. She was strong willed, though. If she didn't think it was for her own good, she wouldn't have bothered. The nightmare, along with the lack of sleep must have pushed her over the edge.

"Oh, um…the chi…the…the people inside. Inside the van." She could see the image in her head. It was fuzzy at first but over the past few days had cleared up, as if someone flipped a switch. She could see the burning vehicle. The voices were no longer muted and screamed out to her for help.

"The children." It was a statement, not a question. The news indicated the occupants of the vehicles.

"Yeah." Her voice failed her and she struggled to clear her throat.

"Are you sure of what you just told me? It sounds to me like you're working some things out." He went to stand and thought better of it. He didn't want her to feel cornered.

"I think so. Yes. I can see it in my head. I can see it. I just…sometimes it's like it fades." Surprisingly, she had remained calm enough to relay what had happened. She knew a lot was missing, but she was only just beginning to unravel everything. She looked over at Elliot and saw the glimmer in his eyes. The pain he was feeling for her. She leaned over and rested her head on his shoulder as she silently wept. She'd done her part. Now her body was exhausted.

"You did great, Liv." Elliot scooted closer so she wouldn't fall. He squeezed her arm gently, reassuringly.

"Elliot's right, Olivia. I know that it may have been the last thing you wanted to do, but you did fine. You look like you're about to pass out. Do you think you can get some sleep?" It was mid-morning, he knew, but trauma and the need for rest knew no time of day.

"I think if I don't, I won't be able to make my appointment later on. Are we uh…are we done here?" Her body felt as if it were of lead, too heavy for her to move.

"Yes, we are. Get some rest. You may not notice it now, but you just did yourself a world of good." With that, he opened the door and watched Elliot pull Olivia up. His gentle hands guided her out the door. He didn't have to see it to know the next stop was the crib. He closed the door behind them. He didn't know how long he stared out. At what, he wasn't sure.


	7. Checking Up

"Cap, the bloodsucking leeches are here. One of 'em, at least. Want me to get rid of her?" John crossed his arms and scowled.

"No. I'll take care of it. Thanks, John." Cragen got up and looked out the window before reluctantly stepping out.

"Captain Cragen. A moment of your time, sir." Sandra Owenson stood there, notepad in hand, ready to write and looking as if she wouldn't take no for an answer.

"You can drop the formalities, Sandra. We both know why you're here." He ushered the reporter to his office and closed the door.

"I want to know what you know. Anything. If we don't run a segment on this you're going to have a mess on your hands." She sat down at the offered chair.

"I know that, Sandy, but we're both wasting our time here. You saw the papers. You know what happened. I'll tell you when I have something to add to that. Until then, no comment." He looked at her sternly and she backed off, hands raised in mock surrender.

"I'm not going to badger the poor woman. You know, the parents think she's hiding something. I know it's ridiculous, but they're grieving and they have just as much right to this information as the rest of the world does. Maybe even more." She uncapped her pen and dared him not to talk.

"You don't think what you were doing was badgering her? You've called nonstop for days, Owenson. You're out of line and I cannot believe we're even having this conversation. You, of all people. Of all the things you've seen just in your time at the station. I expected more of you. You're no better than the others. Get the hell out of my precinct and don't let the door hit you on the ass on your way out. And you can quote that." He yanked the door open but she refused to budge.

"I…I'm sorry. You're right; it was out of line. I'm just doing my job, Don. They're coming down on me for a statement. My boss…my job is riding on this. Give me a line. I'll fill in the blanks. I'll do her justice, I swear." She stood and faced him. His expression was unreadable.

"You want a line? The most horrific thing you could think of happened to that woman, and instead of giving her time to get through this, as she fully deserves, you're standing here asking me why I won't give you answers. She's a human being, damnit! Treat her like one. You can tell that to your superiors. Like I said, I'll call you when I have something. I don't have much and what I do have, I can't say. You know that. We're in the middle of an investigation here. Detective Benson has a right, too. She has a right to grieve and I will not, I will not let you or anyone else take that right away. You can tell them that, as well." He glanced at the door and saw her hesitate before finally walking out.

"I know I come across as a total bitch. I'm sorry it happened to her, I really am. When I first got into j-school, I never dreamed I'd be doing interviews like this. I wanted to tell the truth, get the story out. I never thought I'd be reduced to this. I…tell her I'm sorry. For what it's worth, I know she tried her best. I heard the 911 recording of that night. I do have morals, Don, and I'm exercising them by not letting anyone else know I have a transcript of that call. The others, as you put it, they may not do the same. I just thought you should know about it. I'm not all bad. We've both been put in a terrible position. I respect that." Without another word, she left the precinct.

"Anyone seen Stabler?" Cragen assumed Elliot was with Olivia lying low after the session the day before, but it was worth a shot.

"He had to pick up some things from Olivia's apartment. Said he'd be in about ten. Didn't sound like Olivia was with him." Fin looked up from his computer, spouting off as much as he could remember.

"Well, it's a quarter 'til now. Tell him I want to see him when he gets in." Cragen closed the door behind him once again, rethinking the information he'd just been given. He hadn't been told about a 911 tape. It would make sense, though. He couldn't get out of his head what he'd heard Sandra say. She tried her best. Of course she did. Something didn't fit, and it was on that tape. If it would be of help to the investigation, it had to come out.

"Hey, sorry I'm late. You wanted to see me?" Elliot stood against the wall and eyed his boss.

"I just got rid of Owenson from 4 News. First of all, she didn't leak anything, but she has a 911 call Olivia made the night of the crash. She said she has a transcript but won't let anyone else see it. I don't know what to do with this piece of information. I don't want this to put her over the edge if she finds out. I saw her come out of there yesterday. She looked dead on her feet. How's she doing?" Cragen felt a sense of déjà vu wash over him. He couldn't count the times he'd called Elliot in to discuss how Olivia was doing in the past few days alone. He felt bad for her not being there to defend herself.

"She had an appointment with her doctor after the meeting with Huang. She has an infection in her right hand. That one was worse off than the other one. She's got a new prescription on top of the pain pill she's taking. She was up all night with the chills. The doctor said it was getting pretty bad. She's sleeping it off." He hadn't gotten much rest, himself, from watching over her all night. She'd insisted she'd be fine but he knew better.

"Whatever helps. Right now, I'm worried about what that tape will do to her if someone gets a hold of it and she has to start explaining herself. I feel like a broken record. You tell me. Do we let her hear the tape? Do we let her read the transcript? Does it matter?" He felt the strong urge to get George as fast as he could.

"You know Liv. She'd want to know. Maybe not specifics. I don't know if she's ready for that but she wouldn't want to be kept out of the loop. Whether we like it or not, she's involved more than anyone else is. I say we tell her about it, then we fight like hell to keep her in control. She already hates not having a say in anything. What does George think?" He felt for the position his superior was in.

"I'll call him. Let me know if Olivia needs anything." Cragen shook the detective's hand, a gesture to show how much he appreciated all he was doing. He only wished he could say he was helping as well.

ooo

Elliot picked the phone up for the sixth time before placing the receiver back down. He couldn't help but worry.

"Tell her we said hi." Fin watched Elliot check his cell phone again and rolled his eyes. Stubborn.

"Huh?" Elliot clipped his phone again and frowned.

"Tell her we said hi when you go over there. She's probably sleeping and you're going to wake her up if you call her. Just go over there, Stabler." John raised his eyebrows at the idea the Elliot hadn't gone yet.

"Yeah, okay. Hey, do you need to meet again or are we cool on that case?" Elliot pointed to the file in John's lap as the older man glanced down at the information and began typing.

"Yep. About to wrap it up, as we speak. Get out of here." John snorted as Elliot shoved the papers off his desk and into his drawer before rushing out. There sure wasn't a shortage of concerned detectives.

ooo

Olivia tossed and turned, going from freezing cold one minute to blazing hot the next. Currently, her body was on fire. She'd kicked off the blanket an hour ago in an attempt to cool down. Sweat drenched her skin and clothes but she lacked the energy to change or shower. She didn't want to think about getting her hands wet. Her right hand had been aching ever since the doctor poked and prodded. The bandages had been on most of the time, preventing her from realizing her hand wasn't healing properly. She groaned as she heard the key in the lock.

Elliot crept into the apartment slowly. He set the duffel bag down and looked around. His eyes had yet to adjust to the lack of lighting, and he nearly missed knocking over a lamp on the end table. He steadied it with his hand and tossed his keys on the table. The glow of the television lit the darkened interior of his bachelor's pad. He looked down and saw her sleeping fitfully on the couch. He hesitated before going to the medicine cabinet. Gently, he shook her awake.

"Is it that late?" She over her shoulder, trying to determine where he was.

"No. I thought I'd see how you were doing. Are you feeling any better?" He remembered the state she was in when he left for work. He'd left her pills on the coffee table and a glass of water so she wouldn't have to get up.

"Ugh. I feel worse. Is there a word for more than miserable?" She sank back into the couch and ran a hand through her hair. She felt disgusting.

"I wouldn't know. That would be a question for Kathleen. She's always correcting me on my grammar. She says I should use more…what'd she say…elevator words. She says it would make me sound smart. Here." He picked up both bottles and shook out a couple pills from each, knowing she hadn't taken any yet.

"I couldn't remember what I took when, so I thought I'd wait a while. It's been long enough. I just didn't want to move. Even if it was just across the table. Thanks." She popped the pills in her mouth and picked up the glass with her good hand before washing them down.

"You'll feel better once the infection clears. He said the day after is always worse. I'll be right back. If you want to change, I got your bag. It's already opened. Let me know when you're done." He set the bag down by the couch and went into the kitchen to start the water boiling for some soup. He leaned against the counter and called Cragen.

"Hey, Cap. I'm going to hang out here for the rest of the day. Olivia's not feeling well. I'm going to stick around in case she needs anything." Elliot picked up the information the doctor gave them and scanned it over, looking for signs to look for that he should bring her back in. How was he supposed to know what 'significantly better' was?

"Tell her we said hi. I met with George, by the way. I thought you should know. He said with all she's dealing with to hold it off for a while. I didn't ask and I know he wouldn't say, but he said yesterday was hard on her. He said the timing wouldn't be right. I'll let you go, but I thought I'd let you know what he said." Cragen's voice dripped with concern for his detective.

"Thanks, Captain." Elliot hung up the phone and continued reading.

"Hey, Elliot. I'm done." Olivia half-hollered from the couch. She started to fold her clothes when her shirt slipped from her grasp.

"I got it. What'd that say?" Elliot scooped up her top and pointed to the thermometer.

"High enough to be uncomfortable. Low enough to not warrant a little trip to the hospital." She grinned, knowing full well that his mind was churning with the idea already.

"Gotcha. I'm making you some soup if you want some. I don't think your stomach is going to go for you taking that stuff when it's empty." He stood there, waiting to be told what to do.

"I think I'll wait for the soup then I think I'm going to crash." Olivia yawned as if adding to the conversation that she needed sleep.

"Okay. I'm going to go babysit the water, then. I'll let you know when it's done. Before I forget, the guys said hi." Elliot watched her lay her head back and close her eyes. He had a feeling she'd lose the fight with sleep any moment.

"'Kay. Thanks for staying, El." She heard the television click off and his footsteps on the floor grew quieter as he went into the kitchen. She was surprise when it didn't bother her that he was staying to help her.


	8. Prelude

A/N: This one is short. As much as I detest short additions on I am part of "the shorties" for this one. I hate when you start reading and then it ends. I didn't want to split up the next part, which will provide a little peek into what happened. So, for you patient readers, you'll have some answers.

Elliot looked up again from his desk and saw her staring blankly at the paper before her. He craned his neck to see what she was reading. Occasionally, she would blink, but for the most part she was lost in her own world. He cleared his throat and when that didn't work, got up from his chair. He walked around her desk to the side and sat on the edge.

"Jesus! You scared the hell out of me, Elliot!" The moment he came into her line of vision, she startled. She held a hand to her chest.

"Sorry. I tried to get your attention. What are you reading?" He peered over her shoulder and a sense of dread washed over him.

"No…nothing." She leaned over the papers, hoping that he hadn't seen them. She looked up at him. He knew.

"Where'd you get it?" Elliot immediately began to piece together some sort of explanation, anything that would repair the damage he'd done by keeping such a thing fro her.

"Does it matter? You knew it existed, Elliot. You should have told me." She spoke softly but annunciated each syllable.

"I know. I was waiting for the right time." He fidgeted in his precarious seat on the desk. With a swipe of her arm, she could send him careening over the side of the desk. Unfortunately for him, her hand had gotten a lot better and could inflict the necessary damage, if she so desired.

"When would the right time be? Last week when you found out? Yeah, there was a little note in there. Nice of them to put that little jab in there, huh? How'd it go? Oh yeah, 'thought you'd like a little light reading. You must have misplaced your copy from last week.' Nice, huh? When were you going to tell me? Maybe on Monday when I came back to work? When?" She shoved the papers to the far corner of her desk and got up. As quickly as she could, she left the squad room. She had no idea where she'd go, but it had to be as far away as possible.

"Wait a minute. Let me explain." Elliot hurried after her. He slowed his pace, not wanting to crowd her.

"You should have told me, damnit. What did you think you were doing, protecting me?" She tore out the steps and talked over her shoulder as the door swung back in his direction. She heard a curse when it collided with his outstretched hand.

"Will you just hold on a minute? I…I don't know what I was thinking. I just found out about it, myself. Cragen and I thought we should wait to tell you. Huang agreed, Olivia." He kept his distance once they were outside.

"Great, so who else was involved? Munch? Fin? The cast of Rent? Why don't we set up a billboard in Times Square? How could you do this?" She threw her hands up in frustration.

"You know we wouldn't betray your trust like that. Cragen only knew because one of the reporters got a hold of the tape and had a transcript. She probably sent it over or something. I wanted to spare you from finding out that way. You're just getting back to work again. I didn't know what you'd be ready for." He mouthed an apology to a woman he nearly ran over and followed Olivia past a newsstand.

"You know what the worst part about all of this is, Elliot? I don't even know what I am ready for. I…I'm so scared I'm going to walk down the street and some car's exhaust is going to remind me of that night. Or that a pedestrian will recognize me. I'll be at the market and some parent, some family member is going to come up to me and ask the same questions that I've been asking myself. And damnit, I don't know the answers! I wish to God I did because it would be a hell of a lot easier to live with myself." Olivia had stopped walking and stood with her back to Elliot. She felt the tears burning behind her eyes. She walked to a nearby tree and leaned into the bark. The roughness scraped her arms as she bent down to rest her hands on her knees.

"Okay. Le…let's talk about this." Elliot laid a tentative hand on outer part of her shoulder, only to have her shake it off. He sighed and backed away. He listened to her silently try to regain her composure.

"I...I know you're trying to help. It was too much, too soon. I…the other day I started to remember and I got to work today and saw that sitting on my desk and I didn't know what it was. It took me by surprise. It all came back so fast; I couldn't stop it." She bent down and rested her forearms on her thighs. The weight of her emotions was too much for her body to bear.

"You remember what happened?" He saw her nod slightly and took a step toward her.

"I tried to save those kids. Nobody else did. Me. I'm the one who tried to save them. They were screaming at me to get them out and I couldn't. I…I couldn't and there isn't a day that goes by that I don't hear their voices. The gasoline was coming from somewhere under the van and I remember looking down and thinking that I shouldn't be standing around this burning vehicle in a puddle of gasoline. The other day, John spilled his coffee on the floor. I wasn't looking where I was going and stepped in it. It was the first time in a while that I had a flashback. It took me an hour to come out of the bathroom, after that. All I could think was that I wish I would have gone along with the van. With the kids, just so I wouldn't have to see their faces anymore. Hear them crying. I want to give those people the closure they need. I owe it to them. I know I do, but how can I explain something that I don't fully understand myself?" Olivia stilled when she felt his hand rest on her shoulder once again. She felt his presence behind her and turned around.

"You don't owe them anything more than you're ready to give, right now. You've been through a horrible, traumatic experience. It was a matter of time before you started to remember everything. Why didn't you come to me, Liv?" Elliot began to think about all the distant stares, the many so-called bathroom breaks and all the times she just needed 'a little air.' He felt like he'd let her down. He sensed something was wrong. He'd failed her.

"And tell you that I'm hearing voices and seeing people's faces? Might as well check myself into a nice, padded room." She snorted and stood up fully.

"That doesn't mean you're crazy, Liv. It's normal for you to experience things like that. Huang said that would happen. Let it. It's a part of healing." He placed the palms of his hands on her shoulders and looked her square in the eye. For the first time that day, he saw the pain she'd been trying to hide from him. The anguish she'd kept hidden. He cursed the selfish excuse of a human being that placed the transcript on her desk, knowing what it would do to her.

"Can we go back? Please?" She looked over his shoulder at the few people that glanced their way as they passed. She felt uneasy under their gaze and bowed her head.

"Of course." Elliot risked holding his arm out and smiled when she linked hers with his.

"I don't know who I thought I was kidding. I wanted to be fine. I wanted to come out untouched, but it just made it worse. I kept pushing aside all the little reminders until it got to be so much that I couldn't anymore. I don't know what to do." She waited while he pushed the door open and walked back into the precinct.

"Start by taking to George. I'll go in with you. We'll read the transcript and you can fill in the details. I haven't read it, though, Liv. I wouldn't do that to you." He led her back to her desk and grabbed the papers off her desk.

"I know. I'm sorry I got so angry with you. I just…I don't want to be different. I don't want you to treat me like I need to be sheltered. You've got to treat me the same or I'll never make it through this, El." She pulled on the fabric of his shirt where a stain had set in. Much like that night, it may never fade away.

"I really was going to tell you about it. You got sick and I didn't want to make it harder on you than it was. I swear I was going to tell you." Elliot walked up the stairs as he quietly spoke.

"I know you were. The way you kept looking at me…I knew you had something on your mind. I know you well enough to know that. Same goes for me. You knew I needed to talk to you. Sometimes we just need that extra push to come to each other." She stopped as they reached George's office.

"Well, maybe the good doctor can knock some sense into us, yeah?" He waited for her to prepare herself to go in. Truth be told, he needed a little time, himself.

"Now or never. Whatever happens in there, don't change. I need you to see me as the same person as I was before." She steeled herself and walked through the door. It was about to begin. Whether she was ready or not, she needed to talk about it. She bit her lip anxiously, and waited for Elliot to take a seat.


	9. Release

A/N: Oops. I shamefully forgot to post this and as I was getting ready to post the final installment, I thought I'd better do this first. Wow. That's embarassing:) Thanks, everyone, for hanging in there and for all your kind words. You rock!

"Say hello to the posterchild of the NYPD." Munch slapped the paper on the desk.

"What the…" Fin abruptly removed his feet from the desk and stood to get a closer look.

"Son of a bitch. Damnit, Owenson." Cragen stormed into his office and slammed the door shut. The blinds slapped against the glass several times before stilling. A few choice words could be heard through the walls of his office.

"Wouldn't want to be her. Damn. Elliot's going to blow a gasket. Where is he?" Fin glanced around the room, realizing he hadn't seen either one in a while.

"I saw them going upstairs earlier. I think Liv had an appointment." Munch found it hard to read any further and, with a quick flick of his wrist, sent the offending object into the nearest trashcan.

"It's just like them to do this. What do they think this is? Leverage to get her to talk? If she wanted to, she would have by now." Fin shook his head and bit off a piece of his candy bar. He glanced down into the receptacle and stared at the image. Even in black-and-white, he could tell it was her. The bold, thick letters above the image portrayed Olivia to be a glorified hero. Under the picture was the caption "911 tape reveals what really happened in the fiery crash that claimed four children and two adults".

"Didn't know Olivia called it in." Fin peered over the desk and craned his neck to read past the folds in the paper. Just like many, he was drawn into the text. He hated that he was so interested.

"I don't think she did. The way I heard it was she was first on scene and tried to help the people inside get out. Grapevine says a bystander heard the explosion, came upon the scene and called it in. Guy just stood there and watched. Can you believe the insensitive prick?" Munch shifted his glasses back on his nose and sat down in a huff.

"Figures. I don't know why people read this stuff. Should be a crime. Probably all twisted around." Fin wrapped up the remains of his candy bar and tossed it in the trash on top of the paper.

"Yeah, well, a lot of things should be against the law. You have the Mendoza file?" John held his hand out and grabbed the phone to make his calls. Thankfully, work had been slow enough to where he didn't need to bother Olivia and Elliot.

xxx

"What first led you to believe something was off? What sticks out in your mind?" George crossed one leg over the other and sat back.

"The excess speed. It was going really fast. As it went by, I saw that there were kids in the back. I knew it was going to end badly so I started to run toward the van." Her legs bounced up-and-down slightly as she spoke.

"How did it end? What happened?" George could tell by the way her legs suddenly stilled, that she was nearing the point of no return.

"Uh…the…the…van…it slammed into the tree. The horn started going off. I…I…I got there and the uh…people in the front were already gone. Then, I thought I heard something. The yelling." She spoke in fragments, her sentences a jumbled representation of the events.

"Then what?" George waited, expectedly.

"I tried…I started pounding on the glass but it wouldn't break. I grabbed the handle and it was too hot. The back of the van had filled with smoke. I couldn't see inside. The kids were screaming but I couldn't get them out. I kept screaming at them that I was trying. I was trying." She started to openly sob.

"You did the best you could. The metal was too hot for you to hold. What'd you do after you found out you couldn't open the door?" He urged her on, knowing it was good for her to get it all out.

"I tried to find something to get the handle with. I went back to the van. I had the cup in my hand. I promised I was coming back. The fire was loud and the horn was blaring and I yelled as loud as I could that I would help them. I promised. I…then someone pulled me back. Damnit, I was close. The van blew before I got the chance. They didn't scream after that." She stared down at her hands. Her breath hitched. A hand came into her view, holding a Kleenex. She took it and dabbed at her eyes with shaking hands.

"C…can I hold you?" Elliot spoke for the first time. He'd sat there and watched her wage a battle with her memories that he wasn't sure she'd win. A slight nod was all he got in response to his request. He reached out and enveloped her into his arms. She clung to him and sobbed like he'd never heard before.

"Oh, God." Olivia grabbed fistfuls of Elliot's shirt in her hands. She tightened her grip when he moved, afraid he would let go.

"Shh…I'm just scooting closer. I'm not leaving." Elliot rubbed a hand down her back and up again in a soothing manner. He looked over his sobbing partner at George. He raised his eyebrows, a silent question. _What do I do?_

"Olivia, I know this is hard for you. I need for you to hear this, though." George cleared his throat and waited for the broken woman before him to turn and face him. Reluctantly, she loosened her grip, leaving two wrinkled masses of fabric in her hands' wake.

"Wh…what?" Olivia felt Elliot's hand take hers and squeezed it as she covered their joined hands with her free one.

"The autopsy results came in. By the time the fire reached the back of the van, the children were already unconscious from the smoke. Olivia, do you understand what I'm saying?"

"What? But I heard them. I…" Olivia's voice trailed off as she racked her brain for what the new piece of information could mean. She shook her head, hoping the information would settle into a more meaningful manner.

"They passed out, Liv. The fire killed them but they weren't conscious when it did. Right?" He looked to George, who nodded.

"I…I don't understand. I let them down. It was my fault. I heard them and I didn't save them. I swore I was coming back." She tried to pull her hands out of Elliot's grasp but couldn't.

"Olivia, Melinda is the best at what she does. She gave me a copy of the results the minute she found out. She knew you'd want to know." George walked over to Olivia and kneeled on the floor beside her chair. He looked up at her as realization hit. Finally.

"I've spent so many nights reliving that moment. I think about it all the time. Then all the other stuff came and I was so sure. I just don't…I…" She fumbled for the words to explain how confused she was.

"There have been countless studies about this. The mind fills in the blanks when something like this happens. You knew there were children in the van. You were upset that they didn't make it. Your mind led you to believe that it was your fault. Then, as you started to remember, the picture became a little distorted and you started to believe certain things happened. It doesn't make you crazy or delusional. It's just that, after the fact, the guilt becomes so great that your whole understanding of how things actually happened becomes altered. Let go of the guilt, once and for all. You did all you could do. Accept that and move on." George patted her back and stood.

"I…" Olivia let out a long, ragged breath. She sat there until she felt herself being pulled up.

"Come on." Elliot led her out of the door and down the stairs. He jerked his head toward the door when he spotted Cragen. The older man understood, and nodded.

"They didn't suffer." It was a statement, more than it was a question. Her mind repeated it, as a mantra.

"They didn't." It was all he said. The ride home had been silent. He kept his eye on her. She had a far off look, like she was back there at the scene. He wondered how long it would take her to stop going back to that place.


	10. Survive

Elliot sat up in bed, his heart thumping wildly in his chest. Breathing heavily, he reached out with his hand lazily to touch her. When he felt the cooling sheets where she usually slept, he turned his head quickly. Frowning, he tried to recall why he woke up in the first place. He heard it again. And again. It was incessant and his strides were long as he made his way down the hall and into the kitchen. Part of him wanted to grab her and shake her and another part wanted to gently pull her into his arms. He wasn't sure which she'd accept.

"I woke you." She looked over slightly to her right and saw him out of the corner of her eye. His red and blue flannel pajama pants stood out against the stark, white wall behind him.

"Did you get it?" Elliot slowly walked up behind her and pulled her to him. He rested his chin on her shoulder and looked downward at the mess on the floor.

"Does it look like it?" She sighed and mumbled an apology. She felt her shoulder sag and rise again as he nodded.

"What were you trying to do, Liv?" He lifted his head and moved around her. He braced his hand on the cabinet and kneeled down on the floor. The weight on the door was no match for the items that blocked it from shutting fully. He got on one knee and pulled the door open.

"I couldn't get it shut. I…I guess I got frustrated." She turned her back to the dishwasher, not minding one bit as the handle dug into the small of her back.

"You mean, the first few times didn't do it?" Elliot chuckled and stole a glance up at her. He knew she was on the verge of laughing or crying.

"No. Damnit." She bit her lip to keep from laughing and rolled her eyes when it didn't help. She grabbed the ledge of the counter behind her and pushed off. She watched Elliot stack the pans first, then the pots. It reminded her of a Nesting Doll.

"What's really bothering you? You've been irritable all week." He accepted her hand and pulled himself up.

"Nothing. Everything. I don't know. I'm sure there's some psychology behind all this." She flicked her wrist.

"Do you want to go in today?" He studied her features. She'd been sleeping better since the day with Huang. They'd been to numerous follow-up sessions, and things seemed to be going well for the both of them. George had cautioned him not to get complacent, that outbursts were to be expected. It was her mind's way of sorting through everything; 'residual emotions', he'd called it.

"No. I'll be fine. Thank you, though. For everything. I haven't been the most pleasant person to be around this past week." She let out a self-deprecating laugh.

"That's to be expected. You know that. I've never seen Munch move so fast, though, when you threw that stapler. I think he thought it was the end for him." He remembered how still the room had gotten the moment she realized what she'd done. Everyone had gone about their business afterward.

"Yeah, well it nearly was. That'll teach him to hand me a box of Kleenex again, won't it?" She opened the cabinet above the sink and took out two bowls.

"You showed him. What'll it be? Cap 'n Crunch Berries or…Cheerios?" He held up both boxes and shook each one.

"Cap 'N Crunch Berries. Yum." She smiled and grabbed the offered box. She watched him put the other box away and poured the cereal into each bowl.

"Wait 'til you come off that sugar high. You're going to be dead to the world, Liv." He filled each bowl with milk until the cereal floated precariously near the top of the bowl.

"Yeah, I know. Thanks." She handed him a spoon and sat down at the table.

"So, what was all the racket?" Elliot began eating, thoughtfully. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had Dickie's favorite cereal.

"I was trying to get the sauce pan. I was being lazy and it kept falling off the smaller one when I put it on top of it. The door wouldn't shut. I guess you found that out." She crunched loudly and chewed slower so it wasn't as noisy.

"Finally, I get to use my detective skills. The banging of the door kind of gave you away. What'd you need the sauce pan for?" He talked around the cereal that threatened to spill out of his lips.

"Don't talk with your mouth full. Your so-called skills have little to be desired, El. I was putting the pan away." Olivia reached over and grabbed a napkin. She pointed in the direction of his chin and held the napkin out for him to take.

"Yes, mom. You're not gonna' lick your finger and wipe it off, yourself?" He dabbed at the milk and touched his chin with his other hand. Satisfied that he'd gotten it all, he continued eating.

"Yeah, no. Thanks for asking, though. Are the kids still scared of me?" She'd been living there for over a month and his kids hadn't been over once.

"They're not scared of you. They just wanted to give you some time. Why? Do you want to see them?" Elliot had been alternating between the older girls and the twins, spending time with each child as much as he could.

"It's their house, too. You're their father. I've been taking up all of your time. We should have them over for dinner tonight. I'll cook spaghetti. Do they like garlic bread?" Olivia made a mental list of all the groceries she'd need.

"They'll eat whatever you make. I think Kathleen would want to help, though. She likes to help Kathy cook." He set the spoon down in the near-empty bowl and pushed it away.

"If she wants to, that'd be great. Done?" She wiggled her fingers for him to give up his bowl.

"Yeah. I got it, though. Here." He grabbed her bowl and rinsed both out before loading up the dishwasher. Seeing it was full, he filled the reservoir with soap and shut the door.

"I'm going to shower before you run that. Why don't you call the kids and see what they're doing tonight?" She pulled her top down where it had ridden up, and studied her hands. Minor scarring could be expected, she'd been told. She'd have to accept it. The first few days she'd gotten the bandages off, she refused to look. It was too much of a reminder of what had happened.

"I will." He walked over to her and kissed her forehead.

"Thanks. I needed that." She smiled up at him, happy to be able to push aside her emotions. She'd gotten better at handling them. Aside from the stapler incident. And the cabinet.

"I know. Detective. Remember?" He grabbed her arms gently as she started to smack him on the arm. He released her and watched her walk away. Sighing, he ran a hand through his hair. They'd gone from friends to friends with benefits and it surprised him at how they'd accepted their new roles with ease. He had gotten so attached since then and he didn't know what he'd do without her. He heard the shower start and let his mind wander.

Elliot had stood by her side as she met with each parent. Each person had gotten her undivided attention. She'd hugged the ones who needed it, shook the others' hands. The parents that simply couldn't handle the physical contact with the last person to see their loved one alive simply stared. She'd been remarkably calm, collected until the very end. The last person to approach her offered her the one thing that would let her sleep at night. Understanding. A mother. A hand clutching that of her young son while the other held a wadded up tissue. She'd broken down at the sigh of Olivia. The two women sobbed, each telling the other what they both so desperately needed to hear. The mother had held onto her son still. She was too afraid to let him out of her sight, even in the confines of the precinct.

Two nights later, they handled the press together. He'd sat behind her as she typed out the information. Signed, sealed, and delivered, they'd gotten their story. No one could complain with the details that were given. The police report had given the technical account. She was the human aspect, and the only one who knew what really happened.

He wondered how many nights she'd lie awake, unable to fall asleep. If there were others out there feeling her pain. The crash had been horrible. The trauma from witnessing such a mind-scarring event was insurmountable. Olivia had gotten through it, day-by-day. She had the days where she didn't want to get out of bed. Others, she got angry or upset. Most days, though, she lived to prove that the impossible could be possible.

A man and a woman were out there, somewhere. One held his wife and refused to let go. The other sat in class, writing away with the hand that bore the date that changed her life. They were there that night at the precinct. The detective didn't know it. She didn't need to.

Three people. Two had been saved from having to bear witness to what had happened that night. One woman had seen it all, and had survived.


End file.
